Red Light District
by lazaefair
Summary: Bit of MugenYatsuha. When all is said and done, it's fluff, but it's in Mugen's pottymouth style. And there's offscreen sex. But then, this is Samurai Champloo, when is that new?


Title: Red Light District  
Author: lazaefair  
Pairing: Mugen/Yatsuha  
Rating: PG-13, language and innuendo  
Warnings: Post series (and all spoilers implied therein), episode 15-specific spoilers

1.  
God, what a body he'd had. Wiry and perfectly proportioned. Muscles shifting and knotting as he took down a roomful of "peerless" warriors in 12 seconds flat. Unarmed. And his attitude, the way he casually slouched around like he was constantly flipping the bird at someone and not giving a damn about who it was. Even his _hair_ had attitude in spades. Now that was something she could respect.

In retrospect, perhaps she shouldn't have hit him over the head _before_ she'd gotten a chance to ogle his ass—

"YatsuuuuhhaaAAAA!"

The Yatsuha in question (though that godawful screech had been anything but a question) winced and tried to cleanse her mind of the madam's way too shrill voice. The government assignment could go to hell, she was reaching the limit of her patience with this case. Again. And with the stupid bloody perps who were the reason why she was stuck in a whorehouse. Again.

Honestly, what was with criminals and operating out of brothels? No imagination, none at all. Yatsuha conveniently ignored the fact that they'd had enough imagination so far to elude her and Hankichi's efforts to bust the ring, or even turn up enough concrete evidence.

"YatsuhaaAA—"

"YES, madam?"

"Client for you!"

"Yes, madam!" Must...remember...sweet prostitute voice...not annoyed as fuck voice...

Silence followed this exchange, or what passed for silence in a whorehouse, anyway. Moans and grunting gasps don't count, and after several years of working in undercover assignments, Yatsuha didn't grimace in disgust at said noises anymore. In fact, they could be pretty useful at times.

Whoever the client was, he was being pretty loud clomping up the stairs. Must wear some really big geta or something, with a really assertive stride. Damn. It sounded like it was going to be a long, tiresome night—men who walked like that always had to prove their manliness. And being undercover meant she couldn't just kick their asses and be done with it. Double damn.

The clomping paused in the hallway, and Yatsuha entertained a moment of hope that he wouldn't come to her after all. She'd be able to do some investigating tonight. A girl's voice—Kohana, it sounded like—insinuated itself around the clomping, sounding like a cat in heat, which she probably was. Guys seemed to like that, though, so perhaps...

No luck. The client rebuffed Kohana and then the clomping resumed down the hall. Huh. He'd only said a few words, but his voice...wow. Being an agent meant training in reading people's body language and voices, and Yatsuha had heard just about every possibility in the spectrum. This particular client had a voice that was low. Somewhat gruff. And just dripping with cocky—heh—attitude. And somehow that voice slid its way along the floor, through the door, and smeared itself all over her skin.

Da-_amn_.

Nothing to do but wait for it. The door slid open...

"Well, well, let's get this party started. Hey, you look familiar."

Eyes met across the room. Needless to say, this was unbelievably awkward.

"What!? _YOU!_"

2.

Yatsuha's first reaction was incredibly inappropriate for a trained ninja and daughter of Jinpachi.

_Damn, he is looking fine_—

Sanity then returned; she was up and crouched defensively before she realized it. "What the hell are YOU doing HERE!?"

Mugen leered, leaned against the doorframe with folded arms, and looked at her out of slitted eyes. "Guess we do know each other, then. Ehh, I ever threaten you before?"

_He doesn't remember me?_

Yatsuha finally closed her mouth, crestfallen. He was contemplating her like a choice bit of meat—which she technically was, or at least her disguise was—and the thought that he didn't remember her when she did—vividly—was enough to render her immobile. Just for a second.

Okay. Relax. Lower the knife that had (inadvertently!) appeared in hand. Better that he hadn't remembered, anyway—otherwise, her cover would have been blown and a year's work wasted. Again. (She squashed the whiney disappointment that insisted on making itself known. Whining was for swooning females, not _ninjas_ of the _clan_.) The knife mysteriously disappeared somewhere in her elaborately done hair and she hoisted a smile onto her face, the "take me now you sexy beast" smile that she'd perfected. It tended to speed things along with clients, which was the point: the sooner it was over, the sooner they were gone. Bloody animals, the lot of them.

"My sincere apologies, Mugen-sama," she simpered, bowing deeply and giving him a good eyeful. "You reminded me of someone, that's all. It doesn't matter."

No reply, and Yatsuha looked up to find that he'd slipped out of his noisy clomping geta. Which would explain why he was much closer. Very much closer. As in, suddenly behind her and looking over her shoulder closer.

"Nice save, I'll give you that. Except," smug as all hell, "my name is Mugen, so how the fuck do you know it if we've never met, hmm?"

Shit. "Well, what do you know, you have the same name as the guy I thought was you! Uh, happy coincidence?" Not being able to see him behind her was making her nervous. Shit.

"Don't think so, little whore. Try again," and Yatsuha felt the whisper of air on her neck that told her to dodge and instinctively drop and kick—aim for his legs—

She was, of course, about as successful as the last time they'd fought. She drew the knife mid-spin and mentally lamented that she had to fight in the ridiculous courtesan's outfit, which was patently not made for this kind of thing.

He didn't even draw his sword, dammit. Positions reversed—Mugen was now in the center of the room and the force of the (missed) kick had carried her to the wall. The grin on his face could've swallowed a shark. Yatsuha growled and launched herself at him.

Three spins, two dodges, one roll, a slash, two kicks, and about fifty-five obscenities (quietly expressed of course; the walls were thin and she didn't want to give away that she wasn't actually engaging in, ahem, overly kinky sex play) later, she found herself pinned to the wall by the wrists, knife embedded in the wall five unreachable feet to her right.

Again. AGAIN! Well, well, wasn't déjà vu having such a fucking ball tonight, huh?

"I think I like this kind of service, neh?" Low chuckle. (He wasn't dripping blood this time, but the shark-swallowing grin might as well have belonged to a demon or something—not that Yatsuha believed in that kind of thing—his voice had dropped to this low, throaty purr that made her equally angry and...)

"Uh..." The razor-sharp, acutely intelligent mind of a child of Jinpachi desperately formulated a logical strategy. "Hey, there's a naked woman over there!"

Mugen glanced over his shoulder and Yatsuha landed a really good one in the nuts. At least, that's what was supposed to happen—déjà vu dictated it should have.

Instead, he didn't look away and she got the full brunt of a slant-eyed, unnerving stare. "...I don't believe it. You're that ninja chick who got away..."

Well, at least something appeared to have clicked in that bloody thick-headed baka skull of his!

"...and you never did keep your promise, hmm?"

3.

Oh, fuck.

Actually, Yatsuha refused to think _Oh, fuck_ because that meant that she was screwed.

And ninjas are never screwed.

Unless you're a ninja on the receiving end of the shogun's wrath. ANYWAY, Yatsuha refused to think _Oh, fuck_ and attempted to get out of Mugen's awfully strong grip. Because, all lust aside, she didn't really want to do what she had promised Mr. Incapable of Being Knocked Out that night. It was extremely dirty, even by ninja standards.

She narrowed her eyes at him when the several minutes she spent cursing at him and trying to slip out of his grasp garnered her nothing but, apparently, an even harder hard-on on _his_ part. Kinky _bastard_.

His grin was awfully appealing, though...No! Must focus...get out of here...beat him to kingdom come until he doesn't remember anything about this night...

Mugen, of course, merely grinned some more and then kissed her, grinding against her body in a way...that...

Oh, _fuck_

Actually, _no_ fuck.

"Get the hell off me!"

"Yatsuha?"

Dammit.

"Yes, madam?" Yatsuha tried to make her voice breathy and throaty, as if she was in the throes of passion. Which, given their current position, wasn't so far from the truth.

"Is everything all right in there?"

Mugen cut her off. "Everything's fine. C'mere, bitch," he leered towards Yatsuha, and she would have gasped in outrage and slapped (yes, slapping was a techniques ninjas learned) him to kingdom come. If it weren't for the fact that she was undercover.

Dammit.

4.  
"Shit. Good lay."

"Shut up."

Mugen chuckled, throwing a lean arm around Yatsuha's (bare) shoulders. Funny how one good tumble knocked the awkwardness right out of conversation.

"So what the hell are you doing here, ninja?"

"None of your business, criminal."

Some more quiet, and lazy breathing.

"So what about your promise."

"Do you want me to kick you in the nuts again?"

"Fuck you."

Eventually they snogged some more, and then Mugen went to sleep. Yatsuha wondered where he'd gotten the money to spend an entire night with a whore.

She decided not to mention the marriage thing in the morning.


End file.
